


A Summer Consolation

by PersonalPariah



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Confrontations, Declarations Of Love, Edwardian Period, F/F, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Historical, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonalPariah/pseuds/PersonalPariah
Summary: When Gwen returns from her trip to London, she finds herself distressed from her failed interview.She visits Lady Sybil's room in the evening. There, she finds consolation, but also something else...
Relationships: Sybil Crawley & Gwen Dawson, Sybil Crawley/Gwen Dawson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	A Summer Consolation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RailMeBarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RailMeBarrow/gifts), [CygnetSybil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CygnetSybil/gifts).



A Summer Consolation

_Liszt - Consolation No.3_

_***_

The air was still in Downton, and the heat of the sunset hung in the hallways. Most of the servants downstairs were bustling about; cooking, cleaning, carrying platters of food, and pouring bottles of wine into thin glasses. They were busy, far too busy to notice Gwen’s return from her trip to London. Perhaps under normal circumstances, Mrs Hughes or Anna would have noticed her dull, sunken face - but today was Her Ladyship’s birthday, and the servants were determined to make a wondrous dinner to celebrate. Gwen closed the backdoor and headed quietly upstairs to her room, without a single word from anyone. 

***

It was not her fault; she knew that. She sat on her bed and held her head in her hands. This morning, she had set out to London with such scintillating optimism, eager to prove herself and her typewriting skills to _Astley Prints_ , a publishing company. Larks and blackbirds had sung their choruses on the journey, and she carried the support of Sybil in her heart. _Your dream is my dream now..._ Sybil had said, and the hazy memory of her words made tears spring into her eyes. All of the past hope, the light, the very ambition that had driven her forward to seize this opportunity, seemed to mean nothing now. 

She had seen the other candidates at the interview, and they looked so much more experienced than her. They held a certain gait that asserted sureness and maturity. How would she, a lowly maid, ever live up to them? No sane employer would ever hire a maid over an educated woman. It was as if her hope had crumbled to shards, and the sting of the shards had plunged her back into reality. She was never going to be a secretary after all, and she shall spend her whole life in service. The broken dream shattered Gwen, that was true - but the main thing that upset her was something else entirely. 

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Gwen readied herself, taking off her casual clothes and putting on her livery. She took a deep breath, and went downstairs to help with the dinner. The atmosphere of the kitchens had calmed down a little, as the first course was already served. When Mrs Hughes asked Gwen to organise the dessert silverware, she did as she was told, and smiled at everyone else when they hastily greeted her. She could not let anyone else know of her disappointment; not yet, at least. 

‘How was the interview?’ asked Molesley, who was absent-mindedly pouring champagne.

‘It went well,’ said Gwen, ‘but it could’ve been a bit better.’

Molesley laughed casually. ‘I’m sure you got the job, don’t worry too much about it.’ 

Gwen thanked him and fled, trying not to spill the wine from the decanter in her grip. Molesley had good intentions, but his clumsy words had left her feeling worse than ever. She felt a pang in her heart and longed for Sybil, a friend who she knew would console her and somehow make her believe in herself again. Sybil, who was way too kind, too caring, too saccharine and sweet...Sybil, with her elegant frame, piercing eyes, and lips that spoke only words of good. They had been exchanging letters in the past few weeks, and with each letter she received from Sybil, the more her heart would swell with warmth. What would Sybil say about her failure? She would feel let down, upset, heartbroken…

‘Gwen, what on earth has happened?’

Gwen started back, paralysed; then, she saw what she had done, and gasped in horror. She had dropped the decanter, and the glass had shattered all over the floor. The other servants around her had frozen in their tracks, until Carson put them in their places. He turned and left, unaware of the mess on the floor.

‘I’ll clean this up for you.’ said Mrs Hughes gently, ‘You must have had a rough journey to London, going for your interview and all.’ 

‘Thank you, Mrs Hughes, but I can do it myself...and sorry for dropping it.’ 

Gwen sighed and went to fetch the dustpan and brush, but before she could, Mrs Hughes stopped her.

‘Honestly Gwen, I can do it. You’ve worked very hard for that interview, and you deserve a good, long rest. Go upstairs and clean yourself up.’ Mrs Hughes smiled with a slight sadness, and tapped Gwen lightly on the shoulder. Gwen nodded, and embarrassed of her foolish mistake, went back upstairs to rest her beating mind.

***

Three hours had passed. Gwen had spent the entire time performing a myriad of time-killing activities including reading, pacing around, and lying in bed in deep thought. She thought of the servants downstairs who would be soon going to their rooms to sleep, exhausted from their drunken bacchanal after preparing Her Ladyship’s birthday dinner. She thought of the family at the dinner table, laughing at town gossip and debating local affairs about land and money. She thought of Sybil, walking around in her lovely cerulean dress, a friendly smile splashed upon her face as always. Her dress, with its low-cut neckline, exposing her sleek collarbone beaded with sweat…

Gwen reddened at the image, feeling half ashamed, half restless. Her wandering mind always seemed to drift back to Sybil, and the more Gwen tried to think of something else, the more Sybil would return like the lingering scent of perfume. Perhaps Sybil would be heading to her chamber now, undressing without the company of a lady’s maid and slipping into bed. But looking at the time, it was only ten o’ clock, and she knew that Sybil usually sleeps at eleven. Suddenly, with all the thinking about Sybil, she remembered that Sybil had left her barrette on the kitchen table yesterday when she was cooking with Mrs Patmore. Realising this, Gwen finally left her bed and set out to return the tiny hair clip to its rightful owner.

But as soon as Gwen opened the door, she was met with a startled Anna. 

‘Gwen! Are you doing alright? You seem...different. No offense.’ said Anna, staring at Gwen’s queer expression. ‘Sorry, you scared me for a second there. The others downstairs are mighty drunk, so I decided to come up early to sleep.’

‘Well, I’m glad you had a good time, and I hope Her Ladyship had a good time too. I’m just gonna give Lady Sybil something, so I better go…’

Anna tilted her head and grinned. ‘What are you giving her? You’re not up to something, are you?’ laughed Anna teasingly. Gwen blushed, misunderstanding her words.

‘I-It’s nothing really,’ said Gwen quickly, ‘I'm returning a barrette, that’s all.’

‘A barrette, you say?’ laughed Anna, ‘But Lady Sybil wouldn’t mind losing it, it’s tiny! Ah well, don’t mind me. Have fun.’

***

After navigating the tortuous corridors, Gwen reached the lady’s rooms. Sybil would be opposite this door, brushing her hair, and already the thought of Sybil alone made her giddy. She felt her hands grow sticky, and the barrette slipped around in her grasp. All she had to do was open the door, which was made of a beautifully cultured oak. Wait, maybe it’s pine? The handle must have been used by Sybil thousands of times. She imagined Sybil’s slender hand reaching for it, and slowly turning it until it was open. Gwen shook her head, and took a deep breath. She knocked on the door.

At the muffled call of ‘Who is it?’, Gwen said her name in a hush. She didn’t want any of the others knowing she was in Lady Sybil’s room, especially for something as trivial as returning a hair clip.

‘Oh, come in!’ 

Gwen opened the door slightly ajar and poked her head through.

‘Are you going to stand there all night?’ smiled Sybil, ‘Please do come in, and make yourself comfortable.’ 

Her voice was breathy as usual, but had a hint of tiredness in it. She was sitting on her bed, already in her nightclothes, and patted the spot next to her. Her hair was braided and her face bare, but still beautiful. 

‘I can’t sit there, m’lady.’ said Gwen.

‘Of course you can. We’re friends, aren’t we?’

Feeling reluctant, Gwen sat down, painfully aware of how close she was to her - so close, that she could smell the floral scent of her dark hair, which must have been recently washed. If Gwen moved an inch to her left, her body would be touching Sybil’s. Gwen swallowed, unsure of what to say. Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to look confident, and handed Sybil the barrette.

‘You dropped this yesterday in the kitchens, m’lady. I thought I’d return it in case you...needed it.’

Sybil smiled and reached for the barrette, and for a split second, Gwen felt Sybil’s ungloved hands touch hers. Her bare hands were slightly moist, and Gwen felt her heart beat at this connection. Was it just her, or did Sybil’s hand touch hers for a moment too long? 

‘Thank you Gwen. I appreciate that you are thinking of me.’

‘Thinking of you..?’

‘Ah, don’t worry. What I really meant was, thank you for returning this.’ Now Sybil was just as restless as she fiddled distractedly with the hair clip, heated from Gwen’s grip. But, as Sybil turned around to look at Gwen, she saw that her eyes were lowered, in a brooding, preoccupied manner.

‘Is there something troubling you?’ asked Sybil, noticing Gwen’s expression, ‘How was your interview in London?’

Gwen simply shook her head. Edging closer, so close that Gwen could hear her steady breathing. Sybil met her eyes. 

‘Did it not go well? I’m sure there will be other opportunities in the future-’

‘But you see, m’lady, there never will be!’ cried Gwen, ‘This dream you tell me of, it is an impossible dream. No one’s ever gonna hire me, not ever. I failed the interview, and I’ve let everyone down. Worst of all, I’ve let _you_ down, when you’ve done nothing but support me, guide me, and write letters to me. I’m so sorry, m’lady...I’m so sorry…’

Her voice trailed off, and she began to sob quietly. Sybil said nothing. _Of course she wouldn’t say anything_ , Gwen thought, _she must be so disappointed in me, and I’ll never receive letters from her again_.

‘Oh, Gwen…’

Suddenly, Gwen felt the heat of a neck against hers, and two arms wrapped around her body. It took her a second to realise that Sybil was giving her a hug, gently patting her shoulder. Gwen felt her breath quicken, not knowing if it rooted from her despondency or from Sybil’s embrace. 

‘I would never be disappointed in you,’ said Sybil, ‘so please don’t worry about that. But no one ever hits the bullseye with the first arrow. You will be a secretary in the future, Gwen, I know it.’

Sybil stopped for a moment to calm herself. The whole room turned blurry; the deep crimson of the wall blended with the dark brown bureau like watercolour. Phosphenes of light seemed to float in mid-air, highlighting the reddish hair of the girl in front of her. 

She felt her hands tremble, yearning to feel the softness in Gwen’s hair. Instead, she raised Gwen’s chin, and caressed the edge of her cheek with her thumb.

‘Sybil, I…’

‘Wait.’ interrupted Sybil, speaking nearly in a whisper, ‘There’s something you should know.’

‘M’lady, I don’t think-’

‘You must let me speak. And as I have said before, you can call me Sybil.’

Almost out of breath, Gwen felt her heart hammer against her chest, as rampant as the beating of a drum. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, some of which she blushed at, wary that Sybil was watching her. She suddenly became conscious of her dishevelled hair and reddened eyes, sore from all the crying. Gwen met Sybil’s gaze with equal intensity, studying the flecks of green in her eyes, and the light spray of freckles across her face. She doubted there was anyone that could replace Sybil, whose benevolence shined through into her soft yet subtle beauty. 

Sybil picked up on Gwen’s longing and racing mind, and leaned in close to her ear.

‘I need you. More than you could ever think.’

A pause.

Then Sybil continued.

‘When I said I considered you a friend...I lied. Maybe you noticed it in our letters, but I always thought there was something more between us. Something _unique_ , something that breaks the boundaries between maid and lady.’

Gradually, Gwen began to understand. 

‘I’ve loved you, and I don’t know since when, but I have. And I still do now, as I think of you each and every night. The way you speak so passionately about your dreams. The way you laugh at the ridiculous things I say, like at the time when we got lost in the forest. The way you comfort me, in person and in your letters, when my family troubles me - and of course, your raw, genuine beauty.’ She took a quick breath here. ‘I love you, Gwen, more than you could ever imagine.’

Stunned, Gwen could not reply. She was over the moon that Sybil felt the same way, and didn’t even think of the consequences that this affiliation would make. The only thing on her mind was how arduously she loved Sybil, and the burning fire of desire rippling in her heart. She felt her eyes widen, and opened her mouth to speak.

‘You do not know how much this means to me. Sybil I...I also love you. I could not stop thinking of you since we became friends, and even today my mind was racing. It races, Sybil, with the thought of you. I can’t keep this in any longer. The servants will never hear of this, but I don’t care - I need you, Sybil, so, so much…’

Before Gwen could say any more, she felt the smooth curve of Sybil’s lips upon hers. The painful longing dissipated into the dry bedroom air at last. She felt Sybil’s hand grasp her waist in a sort of desperation. Instinctively, Gwen did the same, pulling Sybil against her body with so much pressure that she could feel Sybil’s heaving chest pressed against hers. They kissed for a while, sighing dolefully in between, their minds empty apart from the sensation of the other’s lips. 

Sybil drew away, now avoiding Gwen’s eyes, for she now knew for sure what she was getting herself into. This maid, once an insignificant person in the whole estate management, was now her lover. It all started with a single note: ‘Your new blue dress is in Lady Mary’s cupboard…”, and with each note passed between them, Sybil began to grow more and more attached to her. Eventually, the notes became letters, and letters became subtle declarations of love. It came to a point where Sybil had to read the letters in the library, to prevent her sisters from seeing her flustered. The library had become her confidante - the secrets it kept, Sybil’s unspoken love to Gwen.

However, it was no longer unspoken, not anymore. The two girls sat together in a mixture of desire and shock, unable to say a word. There was no turning back now.

‘I…’ began Gwen, breaking the silence, ‘I’m just so happy, Sybil.’ She was on the brink of tears again, as a hint of despondence tainted her happiness.

‘This is impossible, isn’t it?’ she continued, ‘The world isn’t gonna like this. Us, I mean. We love each other, but they will never see it that way. They’re going to hate us.’

‘Well, I don’t care what they say. Why does it matter? Can’t you imagine us, happy together, in London? You as a secretary, I as a nurse. It will be wonderful.’ said Sybil in a pleading tone, ‘Come on, Gwen, what more could we want? I’ll tell you what, why don’t I ask Papa if you could be my maid, like how Mary has Anna? You’ll see me every morning and evening, and no one will even question you if you touch me. What do you think?’

A glimmer of hope lit up in Gwen as she thought about it. To see Sybil every morning and every evening - it sounded heavenly. 

‘I think I’d like that very much.’ 

‘Perfect,’ smiled Sybil, ‘I’ll ask him tomorrow. As much as I would love you to stay, you should return back to your room.’

Gwen hesitated for a moment. 

‘Sorry, Gwen. Would you like to do something... _different_ next time?’ 

With a mischievous spark in her eye, Sybil winked.

‘Ah, the shock in your face! I’m joking, we’ll only do that if you want, and when we are truly ready.’

Gwen reddened, and scuttled off to the bedroom door. 

‘Goodnight, Sybil.’

‘Goodnight, Gwen. And in the future, I promise that everything will work out for the two of us.’ 

_Because,_ she thought to herself, _we are swans, and once swans fall in love, they sail away into the moonlight, inseparable._

_-V.C._

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to a dear friend (you know who you are!) who has inspired me to begin writing again.
> 
> I am very grateful to them, but also to you for taking the time to read this! 
> 
> Also; I love classical music, so I based the atmosphere of the work on one of my favourite pieces, Liszt’s Consolation No.3 in D-flat Major. You can listen to it [here!](https://youtu.be/wWnWZcTuqW4)
> 
> With kindness,  
> -V.C.


End file.
